


Biting Off More Than You Can Chew

by coffeelacedwords



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Snark, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-26 03:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10778142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeelacedwords/pseuds/coffeelacedwords
Summary: PWP. Where Dinesh is a vampire, Gilfoyle is a werewolf, and they hate each other. Mostly.





	Biting Off More Than You Can Chew

 

"At least I don't smell like wet dog," Dinesh snaps, spinning around in his chair and facing Gilfoyle smug at his computer.

"Don't smell?" Gilfoyle asks with as little inflection as possible, tilting his head in disbelief. He pauses for a moment and crosses his arms. "You're a corpse."

Dinesh stutters out a noise of frustration, searching for words that aren't simply, 'Fuck off.'

Everyone in the house has been avoiding them for the last two days while they've been at each other's throats. They've reached the point where even a SWOT board doesn't help, the results scattered angrily on the floor - the most recent weakness against Gilfoyle reading, _Lunar PMS_. Ever since they've known one another, Gilfoyle has given him more shit for sucking at Java than for any difference in their supernatural species. But Jared's one small comment messed all of that up.

"Can't you two see," Jared had said, pure joy on his ghostly face. "You're each other's best friends. It's remarkable, overcoming the stereotypes to be there for one another."

It took away any enjoyment Dinesh got out of Gilfoyle not having any friends. He had almost won, for once. Except it's not only eating away at them but also at whatever they were before there was a 'best friends' label. Now all they want to do is tear each other apart. 

"What kind of a creature of the night are you? You sip blood through bags with straws and sleep on an orthopedic mattress. Are we sure you're not defanged?" Gilfoyle smirks, his chair squeaking as gloats in victory.

"I have a bad back," he says under his breath, sinking more into his seat. "And you don't know the shit people put into their bodies."

Gilfoyle smirks like the end of the world came early and he has a front row seat. He rises up, stretching out his long legs, and says, “Alright, okay. I'll make this easy."

Dinesh doesn't move, wouldn't breathe even if he could. He knows that look, the one that always ends with Dinesh embarrassed and publicly ridiculed. Pure, evil delight lights up Gilfoyle's face as he suggests, "Beg me."

"Wh- excuse me?" Dinesh asks, squinting up at Gilfoyle.

"Admit that you're a pathetic excuse for the undead," he says, condescension dripping from each word. "A dried up, formaldehyde ridden Bat Boy knockoff and we'll drop this whole 'which species is superior' pissing contest. Because you know in the end, I'm going to win. But at least it can end with you having _some_ dignity."

He stares up at Gilfoyle in disbelief. Anger launches him out of his chair and he bares his teeth, "Over your dead body, Gilfoyle."

Gilfoyle blinks down at him, unruffled. Shaking his head, Dinesh waves his hand in a helpless motion and his mouth moves without making a sound before he bee-lines for his room. There's no way he's going to grovel at Gilfoyle's feet just to put everything back to the way they were. He goes to forcefully shut his bedroom door but Gilfoyle stops the door mid-slam, having followed him, and leans against the doorframe, waiting.

"Fine," Gilfoyle sighs, shaking his hair out of his face, "if you can't accept that you are an inferior species than prove me wrong. Seduce me."

Dinesh balks at that. He's never lived up to the idea of what makes vampires cool. He's never even been able to convince a girl to go on a date with him, let alone convince someone to sleep with him. Being a vampire doesn't instantly make him charming and handsome, it just makes him a little more nocturnal and gives him blood headaches on top of caffeine ones.

"You have me confused with an incubus," Dinesh tries, fidgeting under Gilfoyle's unblinking stare. He turns around and pretends to organize his already clean desk.

"Excuses," Gilfoyle says. "I've seen those shitty movies. You're supposed to be able to mind fuck anyone. And sparkle."

"I'm not that kind of vampire," Dinesh rolls his eyes, wondering if it's worth it to mention that he's also seen the _Twilight_ movies and if that's the case, then Gilfoyle is supposed to be built and a lot less hairy.

He wants to ignore the challenge, go back to pretending they can't stand each other, and have everything reset to their normal level of chaos. ' _Except maybe this is the solution to fix it all_ ,' he thinks. He can prove that he can out vampire any expectations Gilfoyle has _and_  finally prove him wrong.

Of course, Gilfoyle knows him better than anyone and that means only one thing - that this is a trap. Dinesh glares, quieting the instincts about self-preservation, and gives in to the temptation to finally get one over on Gilfoyle.

"Fine," he snaps, urging every charismatic part of himself to the surface and stalks forward, never breaking eye contact with Gilfoyle. He stamps down the part of himself that is awkward and human, the part that still hangs around after decades of being turned, and leans up in Gilfoyle's space. He pulls him forward, reaching to close the door behind him, and forces him back against the flimsy wood.

"I could drain you alive," he suggests, dropping his gaze down to Gilfoyle's neck and back up to meet his eyes. Dinesh swallows down the overwhelming urge to die a second time, chasing away the embarrassment.

Gilfoyle smirks and stands unmoving. "No, you couldn't," he retorts, blinking slow and unimpressed. 

Dinesh hesitantly reaches out to touch the long stretch of Gilfoyle's throat, his fingers pushing away the dark plaid collar of his shirt. His skin is soft and pale and Dinesh is ashamed to admit that he's caught himself staring at Gilfoyle's neck more than once. He flinches at Gilfoyle's eyes flashing dangerous and yellow at the touch. Dinesh should have known Gilfoyle would be thrilled at humiliating him. With a tip of his head, Gilfoyle stretches his chin up and _up_ , baring more and more of the warm, delicious skin that makes Dinesh's mouth go dry. His expression is knowing, eyes heavy lidded as he smirks, "You suck at this. Pun intended."

"Shut up," he mumbles, hypnotized by the steady drumming of Gilfoyle's heartbeat under his fingertips. Swiping his thumb just shy of his Adam's apple, Dinesh forgets what it was he was supposed to be doing. He inches up until he can brush his lips against Gilfoyle's neck, holding back a moan as he mouths at the warm skin. On the outside Gilfoyle seems calm but Dinesh can sense his anticipation, he can hear his heartbeat stutter and feel his throat bobbing as he swallows.

Dinesh nips at the flesh, just a small prick of his fang, and suddenly his back hits the ground with so much force that the floor gives dangerously under him. He'd be knocked out cold if he was anything less than supernatural. Then Gilfoyle is on top of him, body long and graceful as he promises, "I'm going to tear you to pieces."

The words go straight through him because Dinesh doesn't doubt that he will. His body feels frozen on the ground as Gilfoyle paws at him, hiking up his polo shirt and loosening his khakis. For a hysterical moment, he thinks they're going to fight. His breath catches at the sudden pressure pinning him, with Gilfoyle ferocious and bearing down on top of him.

"Wait," Dinesh fumbles out around his fangs. The call of blood consumes him, the ache racing under his skin. Fuck, he doesn't mean _stop_ but his head is swimming and for someone without any blood pumping through their body, that can't be good.

Gilfoyle ignores him, no doubt picking up on Dinesh's desire - his pupils dilated unnaturally and his lips parted with need. He's mouthing at his jaw, nipping down his collarbone. "You're a fucking icicle," he complains, his words lost in Dinesh's skin.

A moan slips out of him, arching into the touch, and the thought passes him by that he's the one who's supposed to be seducing Gilfoyle. They've both lost the purpose of this, what they are to each other blurred along the way, but Dinesh isn't going to be the one to point it out.

"Maybe if you didn't slobber all over me," he says a little too breathlessly.

"Oh, wow," Gilfoyle mocks, voice dry and biting. "Another dog joke. Are all vampires unoriginal sacks of leftover flesh?" 

"Fuck," Dinesh squirms, becoming more and more interested in the direction of Gilfoyle's mouth, now halfway down his chest. His fingers wind themselves in Gilfoyle's long hair, too afraid to steer Gilfoyle where he wants him.

Of course, Gilfoyle never lets him off the hook. He licks at the soft skin of his belly, just along the elastic of his briefs, and watches Dinesh like he's waiting for the opportune moment to rip his throat out. Biting his lip, Dinesh silently pleads and lifts his hips, willing every thought and desire into Gilfoyle's head. Imaging Gilfoyle's lips around him, Gilfoyle on top of him, and painting the images clear in Gilfoyle's mind. An understanding slowly shifts across his face. 

"That's your party trick?" Gilfoyle laughs at the sudden burst of images in his mind, the sound a dry huff of breath. Dinesh focuses on a particularly graphic suggestion of Gilfoyle sucking him down all the way to the base, never breaking eye contact. His lips twitch into a flicker of a smile at that and he tilts his head in consideration, "That's the best you've got. Tell me, how are your kind not extinct again?"

If Dinesh could blush, he'd be bright red. He was never able to fully get this part down, not when it's so much easier to convince people to _not_ see him. Slipping in and out of shadows is nothing compared to convincing someone to sleep with him. Uncertainly, he envisions Gilfoyle's mouth around his cock, Gilfoyle's hand sliding farther and farther down between his legs. He thinks of fingers disappearing inside of him, slipping in easier than Dinesh knows they would.

Dinesh's thighs twitch in a phantom response, mimicking the vision of his own legs widening to accommodate Gilfoyle's hand. Gilfoyle shows interest at that, his eyebrows raising as he settles more between Dinesh's legs.

"Mediocre," Gilfoyle says. It would sound harsh except his tone is praising as he mouths at where Dinesh is hard, the outline of his cock clear beneath his underwear. "Impress me."

He moans at the hot breath against his cock, pushing image after image into Gilfoyle's mind - him hovering over Dinesh and buried deep inside of him, Dinesh rocking in his lap and holding onto him, both of them with their teeth around the others' throat.

Gilfoyle snaps at that particular suggestion, his eyes glowing fierce. He tugs Dinesh's underwear down to his thighs and licks a long swipe of his tongue up the underside of his cock.

"Fucking hell," Dinesh swears under his breath, unable to contain the rocking of his hips as Gilfoyle finally puts him out of his misery and wraps his lips fully around him. As his cheeks hollow and his glasses slip down, Dinesh has a crazy thought that maybe Gilfoyle is the one who is part incubus because he feels increasingly weak at the sensation.

He can't remember the last time someone blew him and he's already too close, suave seductive persona be damned. As if Gilfoyle knew, he pops off and lets Dinesh's cock bounce against his thigh.

"I didn't hear you. What was that?"

Something close to a whine escapes him and he ignores the question, using all of his strength to drag Gilfoyle back but he's unmoving. He looms over him, eyes sharp and knowing. When Dinesh refuses to open his mouth, feeling the sharp point of his fangs peeking out and unable to retract back in, Gilfoyle slinks up his body.

He lowers his hips and rests most of his weight against Dinesh's erection, dissecting every move he makes. "What's the point of showing me if you can't even say it?" He drags a slow, melting noise out of Dinesh with a shift of his hips and asks, "Have you ever even been with someone before? Dinesh, the 400 year old virgin."

Dinesh bares his teeth and grips the front of his shirt, dragging him closer and snapping, "I've been with tens of people." His words are shaky, his control wavering at the warmer-than-most-humans' body pressed so close to his. He adds, "And I'm still technically younger than you."

Gilfoyle laughs at that, leaning down to bite at his jaw.

"At least I'm not some lame half person, half giant dog," Dinesh pants, wrapping his arms around strong shoulders. Gilfoyle snorts at that but puts more of his weight on him, spreading his knees and really grinding into him. "I can sink my teeth into someone and-"

He gasps at the rough bite to his shoulder. Gilfoyle growls and slips his hand down between them, fisting Dinesh's cock and setting a steady pace.

"Please," Dinesh hisses, trying to arch up into Gilfoyle's touch despite being pinned down. His body aches, his hips stuttering, and he's so far gone that Gilfoyle's satisfied smirk aimed down at him only makes him harder. Gilfoyle's hand is warm, the long strokes spreading the spit he left, and he stops only to thumb just under the head of his cock. The steady hum of Gilfoyle's blood echoes in Dinesh's ears and he bites back the noises caught in his throat, his control thinning to nothing. There's a brush of beard against his jaw and Dinesh stumbles over his orgasm with Gilfoyle taking up every one of his sense. The control he barely had a grasp on snaps and he sinks his teeth into Gilfoyle's long, tempting neck. 

He tastes good, his blood thick and so much more potent than any human blood he's had. Moaning, he licks at the puncture wounds, his hips slowing and his body burning up.

"You taste disgusting," Dinesh breathes against tempting skin, wanting more than anything to keep drinking. That sweet coppery taste lingers in his mouth.

"Does this count as necrophilia?" Gilfoyle wonders, rubbing against his thigh. Suddenly he shifts back, pulling them both up until Dinesh is seated, straddling his lap. He leers openly at Dinesh, "This way you can't just lay back and think of Pakistan."

"Fuck you," he snaps without any real bite, body intoxicated. He never should have given Gilfoyle this power. This isn't even about who is better anymore and the worst part is Dinesh doesn't really care. "Give me a minute, I need to check my calendar and see if it's a full moon tonight. Because I'm not into screwing animals."

Gilfoyle snorts, leaning back on his hands to carefully watch him. A wave of self-consciousness washes over him, realizing that he must look ridiculous with his clothes rumpled and his fangs out. He stops himself from reaching up to wipe at his mouth, wondering if he still has Gilfoyle's blood on his lips. Dinesh can't help the way his eyes wander back to the blood trailing down Gilfoyle's neck. "From what I can tell, you don't screw anything," he smirks. 

"Shut up. Just," he shivers, Gilfoyle's blood still calling to him. Clearing his mind, Dinesh slips his hand down between them and palms at where Gilfoyle is hard through his jeans. A small sound of interest slips from him and his hands curl into fists against the floor, the fake silver of his rings flashing. 

Aiming for sexy, he presses his lips to Gilfoyle's ear and asks, "Do you like that?" 

Dinesh silently curses the way he fumbles over his words, his tongue heavy and his accent thick. He ignores the intense way Gilfoyle follows the clumsy movement of his fingers, undoing his dark jeans and slipping his hand past his black boxer briefs to cup the flesh that burns hotter than the rest of him. Gilfoyle's cock is large in his hand and Dinesh stops himself from asking if it's a werewolf thing.

"Oh yes," Gilfoyle responds sarcastically, his words level and unaffected.

"I fucking hate you," Dinesh murmurs, sliding a thumb along the wet head of his cock.

That has Gilfoyle sitting up and tucking his face against Dinesh's collarbone, pulling him closer and breathing out sharply through his nose. Dinesh always thought he was obsessed with necks, for a pretty damn good reason. The perfect juncture of muscle and flesh is not the most efficient place to draw blood but it is the most appealing. The way Gilfoyle bumps against his jaw, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder and breathing him in, makes Dinesh think it's not just him.

Gilfoyle whines as his strokes grow longer, muffling the noise against Dinesh's skin. This is closer to what Dinesh imagined his kind are capable of, driving humans to madness until they are entirely consumed with only the idea of them. He stutters his rhythm, dragging Gilfoyle's misery out as long as possible. Dinesh arches into the scratch of Gilfoyle's beard and sends a very clear image of them kissing.

When Gilfoyle grips the scruff of his neck and drags Dinesh's mouth to his, he almost considers himself pretty masterful at this whole seductive vampire thing. The kiss is demanding and too sharp with two sets of razor-edged teeth in the equation. Dinesh twists his hand on a rather harsh stroke and swallows a low growl from Gilfoyle, his body rocking at the touch.

With a grin, he projects an image of himself shoving Gilfoyle back and sinking his mouth down around his cock, his lips meeting the top of his fist. A deep, desperate noise escapes Gilfoyle and he's thrusting up into Dinesh's touch with a frantic edge. All it takes is a small lick against Gilfoyle's bottom lip before he's coming, his fingers bruising Dinesh's skin.

Dinesh pumps him through his orgasm, grinning against warm skin as Gilfoyle squirms under his grip, his body growing too sensitive to the touch. Letting go, Dinesh finally leans back to see that Gilfoyle's eyes are haunting and shining bright like a wolf's, his mouth slack and swollen red from the blood rushing to his lips. Dinesh shifts forward, feverishly wanting to taste once more. They've already ruined the comfortable animosity they used to hide their friendship and now they've blown all of that clear out of the water. At least they're both fucked and up shit creek without a paddle so Dinesh still considers it a win.

"Not bad," Gilfoyle pants, their lips brushing together. "For an undead stiff."

"Go to hell and when you get there, die," Dinesh glares, shoving Gilfoyle back flat onto the floor.

"Gladly," he replies, dragging Dinesh down on top of him as he sinks his teeth into Dinesh's shoulder.


End file.
